


Codes

by metaphoricheart



Series: Chronically in Love Verse [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Chronically in Love verse, Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Family, Slice of Life, Very domestic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-22 00:20:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14925792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metaphoricheart/pseuds/metaphoricheart
Summary: Ian and Mickey have been together so long they have their own secret codes to communicate.Set in Chronically in Love verse, before Chronically in Love. Don't need to have read Chronically in Love to understand.





	Codes

**Author's Note:**

> This is set years before Chronically in Love. I would say Yev is 10 and Sarah is 5. I know this is clunky and kind of forced but it was for fun, and I'm not trying to get into the literature canon here.
> 
> I know this isn't a chapter for Chronically in Love which most people would rather see. I'm sorry. I'm working on it. I'll try to do one within the next week.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

Mickey pushed open the door and was met with a squeal and a headbutt of pig tails.

 

“Daddy!” Sarah hugged him around the middle.

 

Mickey smiled at his daughter. “Hey, sweetpea!” He picked her up and spun her around while Sarah giggled. “Umph you’re getting too big for this.”

 

“Or, you could lift weights like Poppy,” Sarah said sassily back. Mickey rolled his eyes. Someone was starting to sound like Ian with a 5 year old voice.

 

“You better watch it, kid!” Mickey playfully growled. “Or I might just...drop you!” He pretended to drop her while she shrieked with laughter. He kissed her once on the forehead and then put her down on the floor. 

 

Sarah ran back to the kitchen and Mickey followed. He walked past Yevgeny sitting at the kitchen table doing a multiplication practice sheet for homework, and ruffled his hair. “Hey, Yevvie”.

 

“Hey, dad,” Yevgeny scowled while flattening his hair.

 

Mickey grinned and walked over to Ian who was standing at the stove over steaming pasta he had just strained. 

 

“Hey,” Ian smiled at him and kissed him quickly on the lips. 

 

“Hey yourself,” Mickey said back, and looked down and frowned. Ian was in The Sweatshirt. 

 

Apparently this ratty, once black now faded grey I love Chicago sweatshirt had been Fiona’s as a kid but it was an adult medium. It got passed to Lip, and then Ian, and Ian kept it. Mickey had teased him once about the sweatshirt like it was a security blanket, and Ian had scowled at him and was short with him for the rest of the night. Mickey eventually learned this sweatshirt was all Ian had from home once when he was separated from his siblings for over 2 months due to some Frank and Monica bullshit. Mickey never made fun of it again. It was now just a warning sign that Ian was struggling in some way that day. The sweatshirt was too small on Ian’s tall frame and his bony wrists hung out of the sleeves.

 

Mickey reached over and tugged the sleeves of the sweatshirt and tilted his head with a concerned looked. Ian turned his attention back to him and did a small shrug with a small smile.

 

“Chopping wood today?” Mickey asked.

 

Ian sighed. “Yeah.”

 

“How much?”

 

“Five,” Ian replied and watched Mickey’s face get more worried. “I’m okay. Ok? Let’s just eat dinner. Can you get out the plates please?”

 

Mickey nodded and squeezed Ian’s elbow as he went to the cabinet with the plates.

 

While he set up the plates on the table, he thought about where “chopping wood” had come from. Chopping wood came from this sheet of coping skills and distractions Ian had gotten from therapy years ago. Chopping wood was literally on the list. It had made Ian laugh for the first time in days reading it. “This is euphemistically filthy, Jesus,” he had snorted. Since then it had become a code of, “Struggling today?” and how much wood was on a scale of 1 to ten, how badly. Mickey wished he could still find it funny. He pulled out his cell phone and texted Lip.

 

To: The Worst Gallagher 6:08pm 

Sweatshirt?

 

From: The Worst Gallagher 6:10pm

Yeah...seemed kinda down today, but was alright getting stuff done.

 

Dinner and bed time went on as it usually did with talking and laughter, and a lot of eye rolls. Ian acted like he normally did but Mickey could tell it took effort and intention for Ian to pull it off.

 

Mickey came from saying goodnight to Sarah and Yevgeny into the kitchen, where Ian was cleaning up from dinner.

 

“Babe, I can do that,” Mickey said grabbing a roll of paper towels and the cleaning spray.

 

Ian smiled softly at him. “Thanks, but doing it is a good distraction for me.” 

 

Mickey put down the paper towels and the spray. “You sure?” 

 

“I’m sure,” Ian said back. “How was your day?” 

 

Mickey sighed at how Ian was making the conversation about him but he knew Ian wouldn’t relent until he got some real information about how Mickey’s day was. “It was alright. Same fucking bullshit. Graham Cracker was especially chatty. Gonna have to tape his goddamn mouth shut soon before I punch him in the face.”

 

Ian rolled his eyes. “I’m sure Graham will find that very sexy.” 

 

“Fuck off,” Mickey snorted. He turned more serious. “And...how was yours?” 

 

Ian finished cleaning and wandered over to the living room and plopped himself on the couch. “My actual day was fine.”

 

Mickey sat down next to him and stuck his feet in Ian’s lap. Ian swatted at them but Mickey left them there and wiggled his toes into Ian’s thighs. “Nothing happened?” He asked probingly. 

 

“No,” Ian said. “I’m just… I don’t know. I’m in a shitty mood. Woke up kinda blah, and just stayed that way.”

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Mickey asked quietly.

 

Ian titled his head back on the couch. “There’s not much to talk about. Sometimes my brain won’t shut up and I’m tired of it.”

 

Mickey nodded. “You got therapy  tomorrow, right?”

 

“Mhm,” Ian nodded.

 

“Need me to drive you?” Mickey asked which was code for “do you need me to make sure you go” since Ian was perfectly capable of getting to therapy by himself.

 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Ian said.

 

“If you’re not sure that sounds like you need me to,” Mickey said gently.

 

Ian groaned. “I know.” 

 

Mickey sat up and pulled his feet out of Ian’s lap. “I’ll pick you up from work, and we’ll go.” He wrapped his arm around Ian’s shoulders.

 

Ian placed his head on Mickey’s shoulder. “Thanks.”

 

After a few minutes of silence, Ian lifted his head up and looked at his husband. “You doing okay?”

 

Mickey looked down at Ian. “I’m alright. Just tired.” 

 

Watching Ian search his face, Mickey rubbed Ian’s shoulder. Ian must have been satisfied that he was getting the truth because he got up and yawned.

 

“I’m gonna take my meds, and go to bed,” Ian said shuffling towards the stairs. “You coming? I know it’s kind of early for you, but,” Ian trailed off.

 

“Yeah, I’m coming. I’ll be up in a minute. My turn to do lunches.”

 

Ten minutes later, lunches made and teeth brushed, Mickey climbed into bed. Ian was already half asleep. His night time meds had the tendency to hit him hard and fast, and knock him out. He rolled over and threw a heavy arm over Mickey.

 

“Ow, so sweet of you,” Mickey grumbled as he slid down under the covers and curled towards Ian and threw his arm down on Ian the same way Ian just did to him even though he knew Ian’s was sleepy heavy and half out of it.

 

“Ow, asshole,” Ian mumbled, and dropped off to sleep.


End file.
